


somewhere only we know

by wordsnnotes



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (Just a little bit), Alcohol, Angst, Childhood Friends, First Meetings, Flash Forward, Flashbacks, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Growing Up, Late Night Conversations, M/M, No Smut, POV Zayn Malik, Phone Calls & Telephones, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27501622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsnnotes/pseuds/wordsnnotes
Summary: Their eyes meet again, and the man suddenly frowns, asking:“Do we know each other?”Oh. So maybe that’s why Zayn is so intrigued with him. He’s always been pretty bad at remembering people’s faces, but there is some kind of vague familiarity to the man’s appearance.“Might help if you told me your name”, he points out.“Right. Sorry, I’m an idiot”, the man chuckles. “I’m Louis. Louis Tomlinson.”And of course. With this voice, Zayn should have known. He’s actually surprised he didn’t recognize it right away.“Lou”, he says, his own voice caught in his throat. “It’s me, Zayn.”Or: Zayn and Louis grew up together, but haven’t seen each other in over a decade. Now they're both in their twenties and meet again on a flight from LA to London, with ten hours in front of them to catch up, and maybe start something new.
Relationships: Zayn Malik & Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 22
Kudos: 59





	somewhere only we know

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> So, this is my first Zouis fic, and I want to thank my friend Bella for telling me I probably needed to write one and "get it out of my system". She was very right, and actually, there were other things I needed to get out of my system too. I'm going through a big and scary change in my life right now, and that's mostly what this fic is about. I'm pretty happy with the way it turned out, and I hope you like it too 😌  
> Also, massive shout-out to Cami for suggesting this title, I wouldn't have had this idea if it wasn't for her 💕 I love you and our writing sessions 🥰
> 
> **CW: alcohol and smoking, vague mentions of anxiety**
> 
> Playlist [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3gzMLfJXKjGzxHlbsOghJG?si=Mww9uIxZQIG0DuonrgwHsw)

“Oi, mate!”

Zayn starts and pulls out one of his earphones, wondering who the hell dared interrupt the minor breakdown he was having while watching the sun set on the LAX tarmac, and listening to a sad song.

The voice is petulant, loud, and clearly tainted with Britishness. How very fitting that his very last few moments in the US should be ruined by a fellow Englishman, he grumbles internally, looking up nonetheless. He’s met with two sharp blue eyes that go wide, as if surprised to see whatever they’re seeing in Zayn.

“What?” he sighs, not bothering to sound polite.

“I was about to say, I think you’re in my seat. But actually, it doesn’t matter,” the man answers, running a hand through his hair in what seems to be a nervous gesture.

There’s something about him, Zayn thinks. He can’t quite place what it is, not yet, at least.

But he’s pissed off, he remembers, so he answers a little coldly:

“Clearly it does matter, if you pointed it out.”

“It’s just… I like to sit by the window, but I can see you’re having some sort of crisis over there, so maybe you need it more than I do.”

Zayn is taken aback. Is it that obvious that he’s not doing well right now? He thought he’d washed away all the traces of tears from his face before he got onto the plane.

“Thanks. And sorry,” he mumbles as the man settles down on the seat next to him.

“It’s alright.” 

The stranger waves Zayn’s apology away and sends him a smile. Their eyes meet again, and the man suddenly frowns, asking:

“Do we know each other?”

Oh. So maybe that’s why Zayn is so intrigued with him. He’s always been pretty bad at remembering people’s faces, but there _is_ some kind of vague familiarity to the man’s appearance.

“Might help if you told me your name,” he points out.

“Right. Sorry, I’m an idiot,” the man chuckles. “I’m Louis. Louis Tomlinson.”

And of course. With this voice, Zayn should have known. He’s actually surprised he didn’t recognise it right away.

“Lou”, he says, his own voice caught in his throat. “It’s me, Zayn.”

✈✈✈

 _They leave on the first day of he summer vacation. Zayn’s mum managed to convince his_ _dad to wait until the end of the school year before they moved._

_Zayn and Louis had many months to get used to the idea, and yet when the day arrives, Zayn doesn’t feel ready at all to say goodbye to his best friend._

_They’re supposed to hit the road right after lunch, so Louis comes to their house early, and asks if Zayn can come hang out with him at his place. They live on the same street, are basically neighbours, but not for long anymore._

_Louis grabs his hand and doesn't let go of it as they walk in silence, past Louis’ house and eventually past their street._

_“Where are we going, Lou?” Zayn asks. His eleven year-old self isn’t exactly used to being out and about without supervision, and he would be feeling a little anxious if Louis wasn’t here with him._

_“You’ll see,” Louis says as confidently as ever, but Zayn knows him better than anyone. He can see Louis is fighting back the tears, and his grip is unnaturally strong._

_A few minutes later, they reach the school, and Louis guides them towards the tree under which they always sit and talk during breaks. Sometimes, other friends join them and eventually convince them to come play footie, but for the most part, it’s just the two of them in their own little world. It’s been like that for as long as Zayn can remember, and he can’t believe it’s about to end today._

_“Why did you bring me here?” he asks, his voice trembling a little and finally freeing his hand from Louis’ grasp._

_He feels upset, for some reason, and Louis senses it, of course he does. That’s just the way it works between them. There’s no way to hide their feelings from one another, even if they wanted to._

_“What’s wrong?” Louis’ voice is soft, softer than usual. “Why are you so upset?”_

_“It’s just… Why are you doing this? It’s like you want to rub it in.”_

_“Rub_ what _in?” Louis asks, confused._

_But Zayn is confused as well, and stumbles through his words, trying to make sense of what he’s feeling right now._

_“I don’t know, like… You know I love this tree. It’s Our Tree, right? And I thought I’d said goodbye to it yesterday already, but now because you brought me here, I have to do it all over again, and I’m gonna cry, and I’m tired of crying, you understand? And it’s not gonna be Our Tree anymore, because I’m leaving, so maybe it’s just gonna be A Tree now, or Your Tree, or even Yours And Someone Else’s Tree, who knows… And I don’t think I can stand it. So can we just leave, please?”_

_“No,” Louis replies firmly._

_“That’s all you have to answer? ‘No’?” Zayn asks, baffled._

_“No, we’re not leaving, because I brought you here for a reason, and I won’t let you go until we’ve done what we came here to do.”_

_“Which is?”_

_“Well, at first I thought maybe we could engrave our names or our initials on the tree. But then I realised it’s cheesy as hell, and you probably wouldn’t like it because you respect nature, or whatever. So instead, I thought we could bury something in the ground. Like, write a note for each other, put them in a box, and maybe one day, ten or twenty or even fifty years from now, we’ll come back here because we’ll still be best friends, and we’ll dig the box up, and finally get to read what we wrote.”_

_Zayn feels really stupid right now. He can’t believe he’s just had an outburst when Louis came up with possibly the sweetest—and still cheesiest—plan he’s ever heard of._

_“You think we’re still gonna be friends when we’re old?” he asks timidly._

_“Of course!” Louis answers gravely. “There’s no way we’re ever going to become strangers, alright? I won’t let that happen, no sir. And also, do you really think I would replace you and share this tree with some random person? Seriously, Zee? It’s Our Tree, okay? You and I’s, and no one else’s.” He pauses, then grabs Zayn’s shoulders, and looks at him earnestly: “I’m not going to forget you just because you’re moving away. Do you believe me, Zayn?”_

_And he’s looking so uncharacteristically serious, almost threateningly so, that Zayn has no choice but to answer:_

_“Yes, I do. And I promise I won’t forget you either.”_

✈✈✈

Well, so much for that promise, present-day Zayn thinks just as the plane is taking off.

It’s been half an hour and he still can’t quite believe that this is happening, that it is _Louis_ who’s sitting beside him right now.

He takes a glance at him, at the blue eyes that haven’t changed, at the haircut that is weirdly similar to the one he was harboring at the beginning of primary school. But apart from that… it’s hard to understand he’s the same person, especially given the fact that Zayn wasn’t there to witness all the subtle changes that led him to look the way he does today.

Zayn almost wants to reach out and touch the stubble that’s darkening Louis’ cheeks, just to make sure that it’s real, but he doesn’t. That would be a little weird.

And anyway, Louis has just caught him staring, and is asking “What?” with a smirk.

“Nothing, I… I just can’t believe it’s you, I guess. I kinda thought… I don’t know, I guess I thought we’d never see each other again. Pretty much gave up on that idea after we stopped talking.”

Louis nods, and after a few seconds of silence, he asks:

“Was it my fault?”

Zayn frowns:

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, was it my fault we stopped talking? Like, did I stop replying to your messages and your calls? I know it sounds shitty, but I actually can’t remember what happened exactly. It feels like ages ago now.”

“Yeah, it’s true… And don’t worry, I can’t remember either. I think it was progressive, y’know? It’s not like anything happened, or it was someone’s fault or anything. I guess that’s just how things work. Life goes on, and you move on, even if you don’t mean to.”

“Until people who once were everything to you become just people from your past.”

“Yeah, exactly. Nice memories you like to revisit sometimes. Although I must admit, it’d been a while since I’d revisited our memories,” Zayn says, sending Louis an apologetic look.

“It’s alright, it’s the same for me,” Louis reassures him. “It’s not like I forgot about you, obviously, but the time we were friends, it feels like… a different life, somehow. And a different me. But I’m glad to see you, really.” 

Zayn wants to say that he’s glad to see him too, but Louis cuts him short. “Now we’re stuck on this plane for at least 10 hours, and I’m actually scared shitless of flying, so how about you distract me and tell me everything that’s happened to you since we last talked? Starting with what the hell you were doing in LA?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Zayn points out, smiling.

“And you will, but I called dibs, so you have to answer first.”

“Still as bossy as you used to be, huh?”

“What can I say?” Louis shrugs. “Guess some things just never change.”

✈✈✈

_Meeting Louis for the first time is probably one of Zayn’s earliest memories._

_The Tomlinsons just moved down the street, and Zayn’s mum decided to go introduce herself and bring them freshly made pastries, and she forced him to come along with her, while Doniya got to stay home and help their dad clean the house. She’s probably not even helping, but watching cartoons, he thinks bitterly._

_He’s only 3 or 4, but he’s already a little weary about meeting new people. It’s not exactly shyness, but introversion, mostly. Added to the fact that he has a tendency to give his entire self to people he’s close to. There’s no being casual acquaintances with Zayn. You’re either family or you’re nothing, there’s no in-between. But there’s only so many people he can allow to enter his life like this and hold that much power over him, so he has to choose them carefully._

_As soon as he sees Louis, though, there’s no doubt in his mind that this slightly older boy is here to stay. He’s playing in the garden with his two little sisters, ordering them around as they try to build a hut with branches and leaves._

_Zayn watches them from afar, listening to the way Louis talks to the girls, praising them when they do something right, and giving them suggestions when they do something wrong._

_“You can go join them, if you want,” Louis’ mother tells him._

_“I… I don’t know,” Zayn mutters. He’s strangely reluctant to interrupt the scene, would like to stay here and just watch Louis forever._

_“C’mon, hon, don’t be shy,” his mum insists._

_“‘M not shy,” he protests uselessly. His mum hasn’t really understood the way he works yet. But in time, she will._

_He gives in, though, and slowly walks towards Louis and his sisters._

_The eldest sees him first, and elbows her big brother, who looks up as well, and their eyes meet. Zayn smiles weakly, hoping he doesn’t look stupid. He’s never wanted anyone to like him as much as he wants Louis to like him now._

_“Hi. I’m Zayn, your new neighbour," he says in a shaky voice._

_“Hey, I’m Louis, and here’s Lottie and Fizzy. Wanna help us build a hut?”_

_“Sure.”_

_“Cool. Can you hold this branch for me? I’ll tie it to this other one…”_

_And this is how it starts. With Louis adopting him right away, no questions asked, gently bossing him around in his new garden like he’s been here forever, while Zayn happily complies, because he’s already realised that he’ll never ever be able to say no to Louis._

✈✈✈

“So yeah, I guess technically I’m going home, but it feels more like leaving home, if I’m being honest,” Zayn finishes to explain, looking out the window and trying to see if the ground is still visible. There’s nothing but white fuzzy clouds, though.

“You’re probably one of the few people on Earth who found a home in LA,” Louis points out, giggling. 

Zayn hasn’t heard this sound in so long. He feels transported back to a time where everything was easier, where his only worry was that his new teacher had given him lines because he was doodling in class, and Louis was gently making fun of him for being so distressed about it. 

Now everything feels heavier. He’s on his way back to England after being gone for four years, and he has little to no idea what he’s going to do with his life.

But before he can dwell on it once again, Louis continues:

“I mean, I was only in LA for a few months, but I quickly realised everyone hated it.”

“That’s true,” Zayn admits. He’s met enough people over the past few years to know that no one really _likes_ LA itself, but stays anyway, because where else would you go?

 _Back to England, apparently_ , Zayn thinks bitterly. 

“I know objectively, this place is pretty much a nightmare,” he says. “But there’s something about it. As soon as I set foot there, I felt liberated, somehow. Because no one gives a shit about anyone else, and maybe it’s sad, even infuriating for some people, but I think that’s what I needed. Just four years of trying things out, and failing, and trying other things, while no one was watching, or judging. No one even cared. I think _I_ even stopped caring, after a while. But weirdly, that’s probably what I was looking for, deep down. It’s helped me make better art, I reckon.”

He pauses, looking away from Louis, and back at the window. There’s a space between the clouds now, but all he can see from down below is a dark stretch of land. It’s impossible to distinguish anything else, they’re too far up in the sky, and that’s a little scary, when he thinks about it.

He turns back to Louis, who’s still staring at him, waiting for him to finish his train of thought. It was one of the things that made him so special to Zayn back then, the way Louis always gave him space to talk, making sure not to interrupt him until he was done rambling. And he somehow had this tendency to know it better than Zayn himself when he still had things to say. Which is the case again now, apparently.

“That’s why I was having some kind of breakdown when you found me earlier,” he admits, staring at Louis’ hands that are folded on his lap, and noticing a tattoo on his wrist, its shape undetermined because it’s half hidden by his sweater’s sleeve. “I was thinking about how I was not only saying goodbye to this place, but to a version of myself I might not be able to carry on being once I’m back in England.”

“Why not?” Louis asks, and of course he would ask this. It’s always been _why_ , with Louis. He needs to know what’s lying under people’s surface, and Zayn admires him for that. He’s not sure he’d have the energy to devote himself to understanding other people’s motivations. He’s not even willing to do that with his own motivations, most of the time.

He thinks about it for a minute, then tries to explain, both to Louis and to himself:

“I guess it feels like going backwards, somehow. Back to people who’ve known me my whole life, to places who watched me grow up. What will they say if I come back and turn out to be completely different from what they remembered?”

“But you’re not, though,” Louis points out. “I haven’t seen you in over 15 years, haven’t talked to you in 10, probably, and yet I still recognise you. Yes, you’ve changed, of course you have. Not just physically, but like, you talk way more than you did back then, for example, and maybe that’s one of the things that’s changed while you were in LA. But that’s cool. And that’s normal. Important, even. Because it means that you’re growing, and it’s a beautiful thing, in my opinion. If other people don’t understand that, and judge you or criticise you for it, that’s their loss. Seriously, fuck ‘em.”

The heaviness of it all followed by the sharp remark makes Zayn burst out laughing, a little louder than intended, and the passenger in the seat in front of him turns around to glare at him. Louis smirks at Zayn and rolls his eyes, as if to say: “See what I mean?”, and it reminds Zayn so much of what they used to have that he suddenly feels the urge to hug Louis and ask him to never leave him again.

But of course, he doesn’t.

✈✈✈

_The line rings for a few seconds, then someone picks up the phone._

_“Hello?”_

_Zayn immediately recognises Louis’ voice, and he sits up on his bed, his heartbeat starting to race._

_“Hey, Lou, it’s Zayn.”_

_“Zayn, hi! How are you?”_

_Louis’ voice sounds far away. It always does, but it seems to be getting worse each time they talk._

_“Good. Was calling to wish you a happy birthday. Can’t believe you’re turning 15 already.”_

And that it’s already the third birthday of yours I’m missing _, he wants to add, but he doesn’t. No need to bring the mood down today._

_“I know, can’t quite believe it meself, to be honest. Anyway, thanks for remembering, love, you’re the best.”_

_“Of course,” Zayn answers. There’s no way he could ever forget about Louis’ birthday. Even if there’s a point where they stop talking—which seems increasingly likely, considering they call each other less and less often—he’ll probably still think of Louis on each December 24_ _th_ _, every year until he’s an old man and doesn’t understand how time works anymore. But of course, he doesn’t admit any of this to Louis. He doesn’t want to creep him out. Instead, he asks:_

_“So, what are your plans for the day?”_

_“Not much. I mean, celebrating it with my family, but as always it’s gonna be pretty uneventful since we’re keeping our energy for Christmas.”_

_Zayn nods, as if Louis can see him, and thinks back on a time where he would go to his house on his birthday and hang out with him all afternoon, playing Monopoly with his sisters, eating gingerbread, and if they were lucky enough, making a snowman in the garden. He misses those times quite a lot, and wonders if Louis does too, or if he’d find these activities too childish now, even if Zayn was there with him._

_He focuses back on Louis, who’s explaining that he’s not going to see his friends today, but is probably going to go to a party with them on New Year’s Eve. Zayn asks him which friends he’s talking about, and Louis starts mentioning names Zayn’s never heard of. It’s weird, he thinks, it’s almost like Louis was the one who moved away, and not him._

_Louis seems to notice that he’s not quite paying attention to what he’s saying, and asks:_

_“Everything okay?”_

_“Yeah. Just tired, I guess. I pulled an all-nighter,” Zayn lies. Well, it’s true that he hardly slept last night, but that’s not why he’s distracted right now._

_“Why did you pull an all-nighter?”_ Why _. That hasn’t changed, at least._

_“I don’t know, it just kinda happened,” he shrugs, once again forgetting that Louis can’t possibly see him. “I was just drawing and listening to music, and I couldn’t bring myself to stop.”_

_“Oh yeah? What are you listening to lately?”_

_“R’n’B, mostly. People you wouldn’t know about.”_

_He’s unwilling to give more details, for some reason. Actually, this whole conversation feels forced, and he almost wishes he could hang up. He’s immediately horrified at the thought, though, and confused. Does he really mean that?_

_“Try me,” Louis insists._

_“I’ll email you a few links, if you want," he offers, wondering if he’ll really do it. Probably not._

_“Okay, cool.”_

_“What about you? Still hung up on Oasis?”_

_“Yeah, pretty much," Louis chuckles. “Actually, wait…” Louis seems to be moving, then Champagne Supernova starts playing close to the receiver. “I was just listening to this when you called.”_

_There’s finally a smile creeping up on Zayn’s face, and he answers:_

_“So that hasn’t changed, huh?”_

_“No, that hasn’t changed,” Louis answers, still giggling a little, and Zayn really wishes he could see him right now. He misses the way Louis’ eyes crinkle when he laughs._

_Before he can get emotional, he mutters:_

_“I’m sorry I interrupted your listening session.”_

_“Don’t you dare apologise," Louis protests. “I’m happy to hear your voice, I always am.”_

_“Me too," Zayn admits._

_There’s a few seconds where neither of them speak, and all they can hear is Liam Gallagher singing about people changing._

_Louis clears his throat, and says softly:_

_“Listen, Zee, I think I should go. I promised mum I’d help her make lunch.”_

_“Oh, okay.” Zayn doesn’t know if he’s relieved or disappointed that the conversation is cut short. “Say hi to her and the girls, yeah?”_

_“Of course. Same for you. And I’ll call you again soon for your birthday, okay? I promise. Then maybe we can talk more, and try to find a way to see each other in the summer, or something?”_

_They’ve been meaning to do that ever since Zayn moved away years ago, but somehow they never did. At this point, Louis’ offer sounds more like wishful thinking than anything else, but Zayn still answers:_

_“Yeah, that’d be nice.”_

_“Okay. Talk to you soon, then.”_

_“Yeah.” There’s a beat, then Zayn rushes to add before Louis hangs up: “Wait, Lou?”_

_“Yeah?”_

I love you _, Zayn wants to say, but even though they’ve said it many times before, right now it would sound too clingy and dramatic, so he blurts out “I miss you” instead, before realising that maybe it’s even worse._

_But Louis answers quietly: “I miss you too, love.”_

✈✈✈

They just finished eating their first meal. Still 6 hours to go until they land at Heathrow.

“Well, it wasn’t half as bad as I expected,” Louis declares, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Plus, I can’t believe we got free booze.”

“I mean, it’s included in the price of the ticket, and _that_ wasn’t cheap,” Zayn points out.

“Shh, babes, don’t burst my bubble,” Louis says, stumbling on the word ‘bubble’. He might be a little tipsy. 

Zayn can’t help smiling. He’s never had the occasion to see Louis under the influence of alcohol before, and he feels like it’s going to be pretty entertaining.

“So, it’s your turn now," he says.

“Me turn?”

“Yep. Your turn to tell me what you were doing in LA.”

“Oh. That. It’s quite a funny story. Actually, scratch that, it’s quite a sad story, but I’m choosing to laugh about it, because what else can you do?”

He looks at Zayn as if he’s expecting him to answer, but Zayn shrugs:

“I don’t know mate, I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Right. Of course you don’t, we just met each other again. So, here’s what happened. Yours truly was dating this guy for like… 4 fucking years, and said guy suddenly decided to move to LA for work. It was his dream or something. To be honest, it’s beyond me why anyone would want to move to the US, but apparently you can relate. Anyway, I decided to follow him, because I was in love, I guess. I thought it’d be enough to sustain me in a place I had no interest in, where I didn’t know anyone else, and where I didn’t even have a job. But it turned out it _wasn’t_ enough, to pretty much no one’s surprise except mine. I just couldn’t stand being so far from home and everyone, so I decided to come back.”

“What about him?”

“I guess we reached a mutual agreement that it was better to break it off. I didn’t want to keep him from living his dream, and he didn’t want to keep me from being home.”

“When did all of this go down?”

“The breakup? A couple of days ago,” Louis mumbles.

“Shit. I’m sorry. How are you feeling?”

“Drunk. Scared and sad because I lost someone that was part of my life for a long time. Confused because I’m talking to my childhood best friend about it. And weirdly relieved about the whole thing, too.”

“That’s understandable,” Zayn answers, reaching for Louis’ knee and patting it gently. “Seems like you’ve been through a lot in a short amount of time. Hopefully being back home and seeing your family again will do you some good.” 

“Hopefully, yeah," Louis nods. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What’s been happening on the relationship side of things?” Louis asks with a smirk.

“Er… not much for a while, to be honest,” Zayn answers, feeling himself blush a little.

“Really? Why?” 

And there it is again, Louis’ signature _why_. One, Zayn absently starts counting, while he tries to answer as frankly as possible:

“I mean, I’ve dated people here and there, including while I was living in LA, but it never lasted for long.”

“Why?”

Two. For some reason, Zayn feels compelled to answer. He always has.

“The way I love… it either scared them off, or they tried to take advantage of it.”

“What do you mean, the way you love?”

Not _why_ exactly, but close enough. So, three.

“My mum told me once that it’s limitless, and unconditional. I think she was right. I’ve always been that way, as far as I can remember.”

Louis ponders for a few seconds, then says:

“Yeah, I remember it too. You’ve always taken it very seriously, more seriously than anyone I’ve ever met. But isn’t it how love is supposed to be, in the end?”

“I think ideally, yes, that’s what most people would say. But then when they’re confronted with the actual thing, they don’t want it. And I can’t even blame them, really. I’m not sure I’d want it either, in their place. Especially not if it came from me.”

“Why not?”

Four.

“I don’t know, I’m just nothing special, I guess,” Zayn tries to explain, once again. “Not the kind of person you’d want to have an epic love story with.”

“Why not?”

Five.

Zayn sighs.

“I don’t know, babes. It’s just a feeling.”

“Well, fuck your feeling, it’s wrong. Anyone would be lucky to have an epic love story with you.”

There’s a beat, and Zayn is pretty sure his cheeks have turned redder than they already were. He avoids Louis’ eyes and looks out the window. It’s pitch black outside. Wherever they are now, it’s nighttime.

“You don’t believe me,” he hears Louis’ voice say, and it’s not a question.

Zayn expects him to ask _why_ for the sixth time, but he doesn’t. Instead, he whispers:

“It’s alright. One day you will.”

✈✈✈

_Zayn is at Louis’ doorstep. He doesn’t quite remember how he got there, actually. One second he was drinking alone at the bar and feeling miserable, and the next he’s standing in front of Louis’ door—might have something to do with the fact that Oasis was playing at the pub._

_He knocks softly on the wooden material, and it takes both an eternity and a short few seconds until he hears footsteps getting closer. The door opens and suddenly Louis is in front of him, looking all soft and disgruntled to have been woken up in the early hours of the morning._

_“Zee? What are you doing here?”_

_He rubs his eyes, then takes a proper look at him, immediately frowning. Zayn’s sadness must be written all over his face._

_“Come on in, love.”_

_He grabs Zayn’s wrist and guides him to the couch, immediately covering him with a blanket, and sitting down next to him._

_“What’s going on?” he asks, gently replacing a strand of hair that was falling on Zayn’s forehead and impending his vision a little._

_Louis’ face still looks blurry, though, but that’s probably because of all the shots Zayn’s been taking earlier._

_“It happened again,” he mumbles._

_“What happened again?”_

_“I got broken up with again, is what happened.”_

_Louis’ hand drops from Zayn’s hair, which he’d been stroking for the last few seconds, and finds its way to Zayn’s own hand instead._

_“Shit.”_

_Zayn chuckles bitterly._

_“Yeah, shit.”_

_“Can I ask why...”_

_But before Louis can finish, Zayn sighs and interrupts:_

_“No, no_ why _tonight, Lou, please… I’m fucking drunk, in case you didn’t notice. Let’s leave it for another time, yeah? ‘S not why I’m here.”_

_“Why are you here, then?”_

_“Just wanted to see my friend and get a proper cuddle on his couch, actually.”_

_“Okay. Yeah, we can do that too, of course,” Louis says, immediately putting his arm around Zayn’s shoulders and bringing him close to his side. Then he continues in a quiet voice: “I’m sorry. You know you don’t have to answer my questions, right? Like, I’m just asking because it’s my way of showing I care about people, but you don’t owe me any kind of answer. Ever.”_

_“I know, babes,” Zayn whispers against the warmth of Louis’ chest. “Sorry I snapped.”_

_Louis chuckles, his chest shaking a little under Zayn’s chin. The sensation is nice._

_“That’s what you call snapping?”_

_Zayn shrugs and bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from grinning too hard._

_“You’re adorable,” Louis adds with a smile in his voice._

_“Shut up," Zayn protests, suddenly extracting himself from his hold, and regretting it immediately. He takes a look at Louis, then points out: “I’m not the one who’s wearing Spiderman pajamas in their late 20s. Who’s adorable now?”_

_This makes Louis giggle as he jokingly punches Zayn’s arm, before snuggling close to him again._

_They don’t say anything for a while. Zayn is mesmerised by the way the lights from outside are reflected on the dark screen of Louis’ TV. It reminds him of something, but he can’t find what it is._

_“You know, I’m really happy you stole my seat on that plane a year ago,” Louis suddenly says, breaking the silence. Zayn is almost surprised he didn’t fall asleep. He was getting there himself._

_“I didn’t_ steal _your seat. I just wanted to be dramatic with a view," he grumbles. “But I’m happy too, obviously. Don’t know what would have happened to me if we hadn’t met again.”_

_“You’d probably still be cutely drunk right now, but no one would be there to see it," Louis smirks. “A sad alternative, in me opinion.”_

_“Yeah, I agree. My cuteness requires an audience, and you’re definitely the best qualified person for the job," Zayn declares before resting his head on Louis’ shoulder, finally closing his eyes and falling asleep in a matter of seconds._

✈✈✈

Louis has sobered up a little, and is stretching and yawning on his seat. Zayn takes a look at his watch. They’re pretty much mid-flight now.

He realises that his watch is still stuck on the LA timezone, and that he’s going to have to adjust it soon, but he’s not ready to do it yet. It would feel final, somehow. He just needs a few more hours of fooling himself into thinking he hasn’t left the US for good.

Louis sighs next to him, visibly getting restless.

“It’s quite a long flight, innit?”

“Are you saying my company’s boring?” Zayn scoffs, raising an eyebrow.

Louis rolls his eyes in a fond manner.

“Of course not. Just hate having to stay seated for so long.”

“Wanna watch a movie?” Zayn offers.

“Yeah, why not," Louis shrugs.

They quickly settle on the last Marvel. Apparently, Louis’ taste in films hasn’t changed much in all these years either.

They put on the movie on the monitor facing Zayn’s seat, and they decide to share a pair of earphones, Louis scooting closer to him so they can both see the screen.

It feels weirdly normal to have him snuggled back at his side after over a decade. That’s what they used to do back then, one of the things Zayn missed the most: watching films all afternoon at his house, sprawled out on the floor instead of the couch because they wanted to be as close to the screen as possible, sharing popcorn or a pack of crisps. Louis would generally end up falling asleep half-way through the movie, and that’s exactly what happens now too. 

Zayn glances at him and is suddenly hit with a wave of nostalgia when he sees that Louis still looks like a cat when he sleeps: his eyes are tightly shut, his eyebrows are slightly knitted, and his nose is scrunched up like he’s about to sneeze at any moment. Zayn delicately pulls the earphone out of his ear, and pauses the movie. He actually feels tired too, and now that he doesn’t have Louis’ conversation to distract him, he’s afraid his anxiety and sadness are going to come back and overwhelm him. 

So instead, he pulls down the shutter next to him, closes his eyes, and tries to focus on the buzzing of the airplane, slowly slipping into sleep as well.

Of course, he dreams about Louis.

✈✈✈

_Zayn is sitting under their tree, surrounded with colourful leaves that keep falling from it. The sun is shining through the branches. Everything is golden._

_Suddenly, Louis appears in front of him. Zayn looks up and squints. It looks like the light is radiating directly from Louis, and it takes him a second to be able to truly see him behind the blinding light._

_He’s older, around 18, maybe, and this isn’t right. It shouldn’t be happening. They never got to spend time together as teenagers._

_“Everything alright, mate?” Louis says, finally stepping out of the light to come and sit next to him._

_“How old are you?” Zayn hears himself asking, the sound of his own voice taking him aback._

_“What kind of question is that?” Louis scoffs._

_“Nevermind," Zayn mumbles. He’s somehow forgotten why he was so weirded out by Louis’ age only a few seconds ago._

_“Bro, I can’t wait to go home and have a smoke," Louis sighs next to him. “Had two exams this morning, surely that’s enough work for today.”_

_“We can smoke now," Zayn offers, a cigarette pack magically appearing in his hand._

_“We’re on school grounds," Louis points out._

_“So?” Zayn shrugs. Nothing makes sense anyway. If they’re really teenagers, why are they still going to their old school?_

_Louis ends up shrugging too and taking a fag out of the pack, letting Zayn light it up for him._

_They smoke in silence. The leaves keep falling all around them, turning into rain, then snow, then flower petals in the time that it takes them to finish the cigarette they’re sharing._

_The moment they’re done, they’re suddenly sitting at their usual spot in Zayn’s old living room, right in front of the TV, but it’s not on._

_Zayn turns to look at Louis, and sees that he looks exactly like airplane Louis. He’s even wearing the same blue-green hoodie. He tries to catch his attention, but Louis won’t look back at him. He seems mesmerised by something on the telly._

_Zayn looks at it again. There are orange and yellow leaves falling all over the screen, and behind these leaves, the black mirror is reflecting his and Louis’ faces. Except they’re children._

_He turns to look at Louis again, but he’s still looking like present-day Louis, and he’s still ignoring him._

_Zayn starts to freak out then, and reaches to shake Louis’ shoulder, but instead, someone does the exact same thing to him, and he wakes up._

✈✈✈

Louis is looking at him with concerned eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?” Zayn frowns, trying to adjust his vision to the half-light of the plane. 

“I don’t know, you were very agitated all of a sudden, like you were having a bad dream or something.”

Zayn struggles a little to hear Louis over the noise of the engine. He never realised it was that loud.

“Maybe,” he says, searching his brain. The dream did leave a weird taste in his mouth, and he knows Louis was in it, but beyond that it’s all a blur. “I don’t remember it now," he adds.

Louis nods, and offers him a glass of water that Zayn accepts gratefully.

“How long was I out?” he asks.

“I just woke up too. But a couple of hours at least. They just announced we’d start landing in an hour already, and that they’re gonna serve breakfast soon.”

“Good. I’m starving.”

They remain silent until the flight attendant comes by their seats and puts breakfast trays on the tablets in front of them.

Louis seems a little fidgety and he’s not eating, which surprises Zayn because he remembers Louis always had a good appetite, unlike him.

“Everything alright?” he asks.

“Yeah, I… I’m just a little stressed about the landing. That’s always the scariest part for me," Louis admits, blushing a little.

“Oh, I see. Well, I could tell you there’s nothing to worry about because plane crashes are extremely rare, but I’m not sure it would help, would it?”

“Yeah… I appreciate it, but my mind is not rational right now, and there’s not much to do but wait it out, I guess,' Louis says, biting his lip. After a beat, he adds: “Maybe you could talk me through it? I mean, tell me about random stuff until we arrive safe and sound?”

“You want me to talk? Aren’t you bored of it yet?” Zayn asks, only half joking.

“Of course not. I’ll never get bored of you talking.”

The use of the future tense makes Zayn want to ask if that means they’re going to be in each other’s lives again, but he feels shy, all of a sudden. He’d like that for sure, but Louis probably has a lot of friends already, doesn't need a new one who’s not even that new.

“What do you want me to talk about?” he says, because he’s a coward and can’t bring himself to ask Louis the question he really wants— _needs_ —the answer to.

“Why don’t you tell me why you’re coming back to England? I meant to ask, since you’re clearly upset about leaving the US.”

“Yeah, that’s fair," Zayn sighs. He doesn’t really want to talk about it, but he knows he needs to. And he knows Louis will understand. “Well, first off, my work visa was expiring soon, and I could have tried to renew it, but I guess it made me consider whether I should really do it. Like, I never planned to move to the US permanently. It was always supposed to be a temporary thing, something that’d allow me to find what I wanted to do with my life. Like some kind of diving board before I came back to England, found a real job, a steady partner, and settled down for good.”

“Is that really what you want to do? Settle down?” Louis asks, his brows knitted a little like he doesn’t believe him. He still can read him well, but Zayn’s not surprised.

“Not really, no," he admits. “I realised I’d be happy to continue having free-lance jobs and making my own art on the side. But I figured I might as well do it in England, be closer to my family. It felt selfish to stay in LA just because of the sense of freedom it gave me, you know?”

Louis hums, and ponders:

“Maybe you can find that back home too. Like, you don’t have to go back to the person you used to be and the life you used to have before you left. It’s up to you to find new ways to be free. And I’m sure you will. You’re a smart guy, always have been.”

Zayn, who’s never known how to take a compliment, laughs to hide his embarrassment.

“Thanks, Lou.”

“You’re welcome," Louis smiles, finally picking up his spoon and starting to eat his yoghurt.

“What about you?” Zayn asks when he’s finished. “I mean, what are your plans once we land?”

“Right after we land? Go home to Donny and explain to mum and the girls what happened. Pray they don’t overreact, but they probably will, let’s be real. So, try my best to reassure them and convince them I’m okay.”

“Are you, though?” This time, it’s Zayn’s turn to not quite believe him.

“Yeah, for the most part, I think I am," Louis says after thinking about it for a few seconds. “Running into you definitely helped, to be honest. It’s a nice distraction from all the drama.”

“Oh, so I’m really just a distraction to you?” Zayn huffs.

“Yeah, but as I said, you’re a _nice_ one,” Louis replies with a laugh

“Fine," Zayn says, pretending to pout. “And then what are you gonna do, in the long run?” he asks after a beat.

“Get back to what I was doing before I left, I guess. I have a flat in London that I’m subletting to one of me mates, and I already told him I was coming back, so there’s that. And it’s the same thing with the school I used to work at, they told me they’d be glad to have me back.”

Zayn raises an eyebrow.

“You’re a lucky bastard, aren’t ya?”

“What can I say, I’m an awesome teacher," Louis smirks.

“I’m sure you are. You’re quite relentless when you’re asking questions, seems like you’re very well suited for the job, if you ask me. I’m not even surprised you became a teacher, actually.”

“Yeah. And I’m not surprised you became an artist either.”

“An artist?”

“Isn’t that what you are?”

“I don’t know… I tend to say I _make art_ , but it’s always felt pretentious to call myself an artist, for some reason.”

“It’s not,” Louis frowns. “You should feel free to call yourself whatever you want.”

“Thanks”, Zayn mumbles, feeling his cheeks turn red.

“I’d love to see some of your creations, by the way," Louis adds.

“I have a few pics on my phone, if you’re really interested," Zayn offers hesitantly. He’s always embarrassed about showing his art to people he knows, and for some reason with Louis it’s even worse.

“Yes, of course," Louis replies with enthusiasm. 

“Another ‘nice distraction’, huh?” Zayn jokes, fumbling for his phone, which hasn’t left his pocket since the beginning of the flight.

“C’mon, you’re way more than a distraction to me, alright?” Louis says, looking at him as earnestly as he had all these years ago when he promised him they’d never become strangers. And of course, Zayn believes him again. As he unlocks his phone and opens the gallery in search of good pictures of his paintings, he promises himself he’ll fight for it—whatever _it_ is—harder this time.

✈✈✈

_“Finally, the last fucking box,” Louis sighs from the couch where he’s been lounging on for the past twenty minutes at least._

_“Don’t you dare complain," Zayn grumbles, falling down next to him, exhausted. “I’ve been doing all the work while you were there chilling and watching, just like the first time, and just like I’d predicted.”_

_“Well, I’m not the one who’s moving in, am I?” Louis challenges._

_“Fuck you. A good roommate would have helped me instead of criticising the way I carry stuff. As if there’s even a proper way to do it, anyway.”_

_“There_ is _, Zaynie. We’ve been over this already. ‘M just worried for your back, that’s all.”_

_“If you were so worried for my back, you would have helped me," Zayn points out._

_There’s a beat._

_“Touché," Louis chuckles. “I’ll help you unpack, don’t worry. Just… let’s stay here for a bit, I’m too comfortable to move right now.”_

_“Fine," Zayn sighs._

_Louis smiles and lies down on the couch—_ their _couch, as of today—resting his head on Zayn’s lap and closing his eyes._

_“Just to be clear, you’re not actually mad at me, right?” he asks after a few minutes of comfortable silence._

_“Nope.”_

_Zayn is fondly annoyed at Louis’ laziness, at most._

_“That’s what I thought," Louis smirks, opening his eyes and winking at him._

_“Don’t get cheeky," Zayn tuts._

_“You’re way too good for me”, Louis answers, still in a joking tone, but Zayn can tell he’s being serious underneath it all._

_“I could say the same thing," he admits, stroking Louis’ hair gently._

_They stay like this for a while. It’s the middle of summer and all the windows of their flat are open to let the air in. They can hear the rumour of children playing outside, and Zayn feels at peace._

_Moving in with Louis is probably the best decision he could have made, or at least he hopes it is. They were pretty much living together already, anyway._

_After that time he showed up on Louis’ doorstep in the middle of the night, around six months ago, he ended up spending most of his time here, and Louis gladly let him. They never explicitly discussed it, but he eventually moved from Louis’ couch to Louis’ bed. It just felt right, somehow. It still does._

_Sometimes they fall asleep with their legs tangled, their faces so close that Louis’ breath is tickling him and keeping him awake, while Louis is fast asleep and still looks like a cat. Sometimes they’re not quite sleeping and Louis reaches out and presses his lips against his. Sometimes it's Zayn who does it. Sometimes they both reach out at the same time, and they end up kissing each other slowly for hours, while all they can hear is the low buzzing of the fridge coming from the kitchen._

_A few days ago, he woke up and Louis was looking at him with a serious expression._

_“What?” Zayn asked._

_“I was just thinking… maybe you should move in for real?” Louis replied, biting his lip as if he was embarrassed to ask._

_“Yeah, okay,” Zayn answered, his brain still fuzzy, and that was it. Two days later, he brought all of his things over, and now they're taking a nap on the couch._

_Zayn isn’t sure what it all means for them, but he doesn’t care. He has a feeling Louis doesn’t care either. All that matters is that they have each other now. He’s sure one day Louis will inevitably ask_ why _, or more accurately_ what _they are. Unless Zayn is the one who does it first. But that’s in the future, and Zayn doesn’t want to waste time thinking about the future anymore. Or the past, for that matter._

_So for now, he just focuses on how happy he feels to be lounging on the couch with Louis, surrounded with boxes that are waiting to be open._

✈✈✈

The plane has just landed. Louis, who’s been holding Zayn’s hand for the last two minutes, lets it go and sends him an apologetic smile.

“That was quite a strong grip you had there, mate,” Zayn comments.

“Sorry. I just hate it so much. I’m glad it’s over.”

Louis seems to be about to add something, but they’re interrupted by the voice of a flight attendant coming from the speakers, asking them to remain seated until the plane arrives at the gate.

Zayn can’t believe it’s almost over. Those were the shortest 10 hours of his life. 

Neither of them has said anything about what’s going to happen now. Are they going to say goodbye, go their own way, and never see each other again? Are they going to exchange numbers, but never end up calling each other? Or are they going to go back to the way it used to be all these years ago? Zayn knows what he wants, but he can’t bring himself to ask. He’s afraid Louis won’t be on the same page.

So he starts gathering his things, and putting his jacket on.

When he’s done, he turns to Louis and sees that he’s looking at him with an odd expression.

“What’s up?” Zayn asks.

“Nothing I… I just wanted to say, thank you for keeping me distracted. And I’m really happy we ran into each other and got to catch up a little.”

“No worries,” Zayn says, wondering how to interpret Louis’ remark, so settling for a careful: “And I agree, it’s been nice.”

Louis nods, still staring at him, then says something so fast and so quietly that Zayn has to ask him to repeat. 

“I was saying, what now?” Louis says, looking at him expectantly.

“What now?” Zayn repeats, praying that Louis is asking about _them_ , and not just his immediate plans once they get off the plane.

“Yeah… Do you want to, I don’t know, exchange numbers so we can hang out once we’ve both settled down?”

Zayn’s heart flutters in his chest, and he can’t help grinning.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he admits.

“Why didn’t you say anything yourself, then?” Louis frowns.

“I was afraid maybe you wouldn’t want to see me again, I guess," Zayn replies, biting his lip.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, love. Of course I want to see you again. Like, as soon as possible, even.”

“Really?”

“Really. Remember that promise I made to you back then? About me not letting us become strangers?” Zayn nods. “Well, I’ve failed miserably, haven’t I?”

Zayn chuckles.

“Pretty much, yeah. But I’ve failed too.”

“Yeah. But it’s like we’ve been given a second chance, innit? And I won’t waste it. So give me your damn number, and I’ll call you in a few days once we’ve slept through the jet lag. Deal?”

He extends his hand to Zayn, and Zayn shakes it.

“If you insist," he says, rolling his eyes, but overwhelmed with relief.

✈✈✈

_“Hey," Zayn says, opening the door and settling on the passenger seat._

_“Hey yourself! Good to see you again, lad," Louis smiles. “Ready to go?”_

_“I guess. You really won’t tell me where we’re going?”_

_“Nope. You’ll find out soon enough.”_

_Louis starts the engine, and they take off._

_The drive is nice. It’s the early afternoon, and even though the winter light is weak, at least it’s not raining._

_Louis tells him to plug his phone to the sound system, and play whatever music he wants. So Zayn puts on an old playlist of songs he was listening to as a teenager, all those R’n’B artists he wished he could have shared with Louis back then. Surprisingly, Louis seems to enjoy it, bopping his head along to the rhythm._

_“I thought you weren’t really into that kind of music?” Zayn points out._

_“10 years ago, maybe. But my taste has expanded as I grew older, I guess," Louis shrugs._

_It’s weird to be reminded that there’s a huge gap in their friendship, things they’ll need to learn and relearn. They reconnected so seamlessly that sometimes, Zayn feels like they’ve been together all this time._

_As they drive down the motorway to their mysterious destination, they update each other on what they’ve been doing since they landed at Heathrow two weeks ago. Louis explains that he spent a few days in Donny, then moved back to his old apartment, and is getting ready to resume classes in a few weeks. Zayn is still crashing at his parents’ for the time being, but has already signed a few illustration contracts, and is looking for a flat in the London suburbs._

_“That’s great!” Louis exclaims. “We’ll be able to hang out. And I can help you move in, if you want.”_

_Zayn chuckles._

_“Why are you laughing?” Louis asks, taking his eyes off the road for a second to glance at him._

_“I don’t know, for some reason I’m picturing you ‘helping’ me by watching me from the couch, letting me carry all the boxes, ordering me around, and giving me annoying advice on my posture.”_

_“You know what, that totally sounds like something I would do," Louis admits, chuckling too._

_After driving for another hour, they reach the exit to Doncaster, and Louis takes it._

_“Lou, where are we going?” Zayn whispers._

_Louis smiles and doesn’t answer, but Zayn already has an idea._

_It turns out to be right when, a few minutes later, Louis parks the car in front of their old school._

_He turns off the engine, and still looking straight ahead, he says:_

_“I thought we could make good on that promise and check out those notes we left for each other when we were kids.” He turns to Zayn then, and grins at him beautifully. “You in? I brought shovels.”_

_“‘F course I’m in," Zayn grins back._

_Louis grabs the shovels from the backseat, gives one to him, and soon they’re racing towards their tree. It’s still there, standing taller than ever._

_Finding the notes turns out to be harder than expected, though. Neither of them remembers exactly where they buried them, and Louis says it was in a bottle, while Zayn’s sure it was in a tin box. They dig all around the tree, wondering how deep they should go, but coming up with nothing. After half an hour, the sun is already starting to set, and Louis clears his throat:_

_“Maybe we should give up? It’s gonna be night soon.”_

_“No, not yet," Zayn mumbles, his mind set on finding the letters. He’s so curious about them, cannot wait to read what Louis has written. Actually, he doesn’t even remember what_ he _’s written._

_“Okay," Louis sighs. “We’ll stop when the sun is gone, yeah?”_

_“Fine," Zayn replies, hardly looking up and continuing to dig._

_Fifteen minutes later, it’s almost completely dark, and Louis clears his throat again:_

_“We have to stop, love, I’m sorry. We’re not gonna find them, especially now that we can’t see anything anymore.”_

_Zayn looks up. Louis is just a grey silhouette, standing only a few feet away, but the distance seems bigger, somehow. Like Louis is nothing_ but _this dark silhouette, some kind of ghost that will always be out of reach._

_Nothing seems real, right now, nothing except the sting of the blisters that Zayn caught from holding the shovel for so long, and the tears running down his cheeks._

_Louis steps closer, his face coming into focus, and frowning when he sees Zayn crying._

_“Why are you so upset?” he asks, and it reminds Zayn of another time where they were standing under that tree, and Louis asked him the exact same question._

_He starts laughing then, and the quiet chuckles soon turn almost hysterical._

_Louis rushes to take him in his arms, shushing him and caressing his hair while Zayn weeps against his shoulder, feeling like he’s draining himself of all the tears and emotions that were locked inside of him. When he finally calms down, Louis wordlessly takes his hand and guides him back to the car._

_They sit in silence for a while. Zayn knows Louis won’t speak until he does, so after a few false starts, he says:_

_“Sorry I… I’m not sure what happened. I just… Being here, it reminded me of how much I missed you. How much I’ve been missing you. Because it never really stopped, I think, even if I buried it somewhere deep inside of me, and eventually learned to live with it.”_

_He takes a glance at Louis, who’s looking at him earnestly, and seems to be on the verge of tears too._

_“I missed you too, Zayn. So much. You know that, right? Like, the reason why I got into R’n’B was because I figured you must have been listening to the same songs, and it made me feel connected to you, somehow. And I’m sorry, because I should have reached out. I thought of doing it so many times over the years, but I never did. After a while, I guess I thought it was too late, and you had forgotten all about me, anyway. But it was stupid, obviously. So I’m sorry. I really am.”_

_Zayn sniffles, and protests:_

_“It’s not your fault. Or if it is, then it’s my fault too. Because I also thought of reaching out, but I never did either. And I’m sorry too. We lost all those years, and there’s no getting them back, is there? Things have changed so much, not just you and me, but everything... And I’m so afraid,” he admits after a beat._

_“Why are you afraid, love?” Louis asks, reaching for his hand and warming it up between his own two palms._

_“I’m afraid that things have changed so much that we won’t be able to go back to the way it was,” Zayn tries to explain. “Afraid that we actually_ did _become strangers. Like, we can’t even find these messages anymore. I was hoping they’d give us some kind of guidance or insight, somehow.”_

_Louis laughs a little at this._

_“Zayn, no offence, but I think that’s wildly unrealistic. We were just kids when we wrote them, it was probably just a bunch of semi-coherent sentences, at best.”_

_Zayn smiles, his chest finally feeling a little lighter._

_“You’re probably right.”_

_“You_ know _I am," Louis declares. “And about the other things you’re worried about… Look, I can’t promise we can go back to the way it was, that’s true. But maybe that’s not the point, actually.”_

_“What’s the point, then?”_

_“I don’t know," Louis shrugs. “Letting go of everything, the past, the years we lost, the future, even. Focusing on the present. And starting something different. Something new. What do you say?”_

_Zayn doesn’t really need to think twice. He likes the way it sounds. So he replies:_

_“Yeah, okay. Let’s do it.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!!  
> Let me know what you think if you want ✨ You can also reblog the fic post [here](https://quelsentiment.tumblr.com/post/634708526706638848/somewhere-only-we-know-by-wordsnnotes-aka-me), but no pressure 💕


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